ommand prices
little inferior to the better sorts, as they yield a brilliant red dye
suitable for dying printed cotton goods. When really ripe they are
excellent for cooking, and are not to be despised, even raw, on a
thirsty autumn day. In years of scarcity these have fetched 30s. and
over per "pot" of 72 pounds.

The Pershore is a very different plum, green when unripe, and
attaining a golden colour later; they are immense bearers and very
hardy, frequently saving the situation for the plum-growers when all
other kinds are destroyed by spring frosts. They are specially
valuable for bottling, and it is rumoured that in the hands of skilful
manufacturers they become "apricots" under certain conditions. As
"cookers," too, they are perhaps the most useful of plums, for they
can be used in a very green and hard state. It is a wonderful sight to
see them being despatched by tram at the Evesham stations, loaded
sometimes loose like coals in the trucks for the big preserving firms
in the north. The trees grow very irregularly and are difficult to
keep in shape by pruning, as they send forth suckers from all parts
when an attempt is made to keep them symmetrical. The only purpose for
which the fruit is of little use is for eating raw, they are not
unpleasant when just ripe, but that stage is soon passed and they
become woody and unpalatable.

I planted a thousand of these trees in a new orchard, and took great
pains with the pruning myself, for it was curious that in that land of
fruit at the time no professional pruner could be found. I sought the
advice of a market-gardener and plum-grower, who, in the early stage
of their growth, gave me an object-lesson, cutting back the young
shoots rather hard to induce them to throw out more at the point of
incision, so as to produce eventually a fuller head; while he
reiterated the instruction, "It is no use being afraid of 'em."

This young orchard adjoined the Great Western Railway, and one day
when pruning there I saw a remarkable sight, and I have never found
any one with a similar experience. The telegraph wires were magnified
into stout ropes by a coating of white rime, and I could see a
distinct series of waves approximating to the dots and dashes of the
Morse code running along them. The movement would run for a time up
towards London, cease for a moment, and then run downwards towards
Evesham, and so on almost continuously. I thought it might be caused
by the passage of el